


Don't You Know Now Is The Perfect Time

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Secret Love [3]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Spencer Reid, Episode Related, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Spencer Reid, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26547556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Episode related for s1e13 'Poison'-- which normally I wouldn't have thought to give its own fic to, except that this is also where their first time falls, so... really just covers the time around that case.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Series: Secret Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911022
Comments: 16
Kudos: 207





	Don't You Know Now Is The Perfect Time

They had a date planned, before the call to New Jersey, and the frustration is… a very real thing. Spencer had kind of been looking forward-- well, no, no ‘kind of’ about it, he’d been planning on saying yes to the offer of staying the night and…

Okay, he still doesn’t know what bases are supposed to mean, but he’d planned on getting to at least one more of them than they’d previously gotten. His experience is limited, and it’s been a while, but he’s hit the point where his desire for more outweighs his lack of confidence. They survived sleeping in bed next to each other, after all, and then they woke up next to each other, and the morning was slow and sweet… Derek had kissed the back of his neck and laughed and said ‘this is where you learn I can’t cook, so if you were hoping for something other than cereal for breakfast, we’re gonna have to go out’, and Spencer had told him that he’d learned to cook as a child, so maybe Derek should start keeping some eggs in the house and if he asked really nicely, Spencer would handle breakfast. 

And it had just been _nice_ , having their own private reprieve from the horrors of the job, that morning, and it made him think that stepping up their relationship could be relaxing, not anxiety-inducing.

And now, they’re flying out to New Jersey, and Derek looks _good_ , he’s started loosening up a little, these past weeks, taking more casual days than he used to, and he’s wearing a nice blazer over a black tee shirt, and it all just _fits_ , it fits exactly right, and his shoulders look good and his chest looks good and Spencer kind of suspects that he knows how good he looks and that he’d elected to look this good because they’d planned on heading back to his place after work…

And instead of going back to Derek’s and watching him shrug out of that blazer and stretch his arm along the back of the couch to welcome him in close, they’re investigating a bunch of people being dosed with LSD in New Jersey.

When Elle brings in Danny Wallace for questioning, they’re both observing from behind the glass, and Derek isn’t even standing close behind him, but Spencer still feels so _aware_ of him. He doesn’t need to look back over his shoulder to know exactly how good he looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s knowing he smells good, it’s knowing that he’d also been looking forward to a nice night in, it’s the sense memory of being curled up on Derek’s couch, pressed close to him… of strong, gentle hands that already touch him with a startling intimacy, and kisses that can soothe him or set him on fire.

The case they are working is very unsexy, but the timing… he doesn’t think he can be blamed if the timing is messing with him, because he thought his night was going to go very differently from how it does.

The rooms had been arranged without any input from the team, short notice, and they’re doubled up, but not with each other. Which he supposes removes the temptation to make way too much noise to be sharing a wall with a boss or coworker, but when Hotch asks him what about the case has him so tense, he can’t exactly say ‘the fact that I should be sucking my boyfriend’s dick right now and instead I’m in New Jersey’. There are so many reasons why he can’t say that.

So he’s tense. Noticeably, apparently. He does not get much sleep, and he downs two cups of coffee before they head for the police station in the morning, and goes for the coffee pot once they arrive.

“Woah there.” Derek catches him by the shoulder, and even that much contact is… again, okay, maybe not sexy, but the desire to lean into it… especially considering they seem to be alone in the little alcove by the coffee, no one to see if he does. “Come on, grab a chair.”

“In a minute--”

“Sit down.” He says, in a tone which gently suggests that, for a genius, Spencer is being a real idiot, and that maybe he should sit down before he falls down, and maybe he should let Derek take care of him. 

Which is sexy, but he really wishes it wasn’t. 

“I didn’t sleep, and--”

“And you plan on never doing it again? Sit down, I’ll bring you a cup.”

“... Are you switching me to decaf?” Spencer narrows his eyes.

“Damn right I am, pretty boy, you don’t need a third cup of coffee this early, sleep or no sleep.” He turns him around and gives his backside a light swat. “Go. Sit. I remember you like about fifty sugars.”

He should be arguing the right to control his caffeine consumption, even though he knows Derek is right, but it’s the principle of the thing, he should be putting up a token argument and instead… 

Maybe he has a _thing_. Okay, no maybe, he _definitely_ has a thing, and Derek isn’t playing into it on purpose, it’s just that he covers up his worried hovering with one part swagger and one part air of authority, so that it doesn’t come across as his being an anxious mother hen who worries too much about his boyfriend’s health, and that public persona, too cool and teasing, hits some buttons Spencer hadn’t realized he had. And the outfit doesn’t hurt either, crisp black on black on black, no tie, a couple buttons undone, business casual but cooler and effortlessly sexy. 

And he has to think about poisonings, not about how much he’d like Derek to give him another swat-- he doesn’t know if he _would_ , and isn’t sure how to bring it up-- and how much he likes the blossoming heat in his belly from just a _little_ embarrassment, at being told someone else knows best, told what to do, smiled at like he’s cute but he needs looking after. 

All right, this isn’t the first time he’s liked being embarrassed just a little too much. There are fine lines he doesn’t know the locations of yet, between the kind of embarrassment that makes him feel hot and eager, and _humiliation_ , which he has plenty of experience with and really does not like. There have been other times that Derek’s teased him and he’s felt an undefined _want_ that he couldn’t name. Now he’s got a name for it, or he’s close to naming it. 

He’s certainly communicated that the teasing is welcome and that it’s fun and that he likes it, he’s just never worked out some of those fine details, and now is really not the time.

“Here.” Derek finds him, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him, and then slipping a granola bar under his cardigan and into his shirt pocket. “This ought to keep you going, without giving you a heart attack.”

He winks, patting Spencer’s chest before withdrawing his hand, and somehow no one else in the room notices.

It’s almost a relief to be sent on separate tasks now… Derek looks exactly as good as he had the day before, if not better, and the distraction isn’t something either of them needs now. 

Watching a woman dying of botulism poisoning has a way of focusing him. When they do all reconvene, he’s not thinking about sex. He’d wager neither of them are. He’s not thinking about the date they didn’t get to go on, he’s not thinking about things he doesn’t know how to ask for… he’s just thinking about work. Which, given how recently he was mourning his night of passion, he supposes speaks well to their ability to work together in spite of their relationship-- even at his most distracted, the job takes priority. They work late together without any further distractions.

He’s getting coffee, when something happens-- he’s not sure what, only that when he comes back to the desks they’ve made themselves at home at, both Derek and Gideon are on alert.

“Hey, kid.” Derek’s voice is soft. “Garcia got us a name. SWAT team’s getting ready to roll once we have a location… we might be going in first thing in the morning at this rate, take him by surprise early in the day. This guy, Hill… odds are he’s not going to let us take him in alive. We don’t know what he might have set up, and he’s not going to tell us. Someone’s gotta keep going over what we’ve got on this guy, try and put together any clues we can get, so that whatever he’s got going, we can shut it down.”

“It’s going to get nasty, if what we’ve seen so far is anything to go by… the botulinum toxin is incredibly deadly, and we can start narrowing things down, but… if we can’t bring him in for questioning, we won’t know how far in motion things are already set, and we can focus our efforts on Hichcock, but…” He nods. “Time’s going to be of the essence.”

“Tonight, we do what we can to narrow it down further. Look, maybe… maybe we don’t all roll out with the SWAT team, and a couple people stay behind to keep working on figuring Hill out. I don’t know how Hotch will want to play it, I just know storming in guns blazing isn’t going to save people on its own if he’s already got things set in place.”

On occasion, Spencer can read between the lines. Asking him to stay behind isn’t something Derek has the power to do-- giving the orders isn’t his job, either Hotch will tell Spencer to come on the raid or he won’t, and the most Derek can say then is to encourage Spencer to stay behind him… and maybe he doesn’t want to say something outright that Spencer could take the wrong way, but he’s hoping.

“Either way… I’ll get started. Hey-- we’ve got a name now. That’s something.”

“And we’ll have a location. And we know what to expect, when he really goes for it… means we can get our hands on the antitoxin, it’s just making sure we’re fast enough to get it to the right people, if we’re not fast enough to stop him.” Derek takes Spencer’s coffee cup from his hand, taking a sip.

“Hey!” He grabs for it-- albeit very carefully. “If you’d just asked, I could’ve got you your own.”

“Yeah? You’d do that for me?” He relinquishes the cup easily, fingertips trailing briefly over the back of Spencer’s hand, warm.

“Maybe. I mean, maybe not, if you’re going to keep calling me ‘kid’.”

Derek gives him a look of wounded shock. “Since when?”

“Since approximately a month ago.”

“Approximately?”

“Well, details are fuzzy. We should nail a definite date down, for annual… purposes. I mean, if we-- if we’re people who… annually reminisce, about… things.” He purses his lips.

“I’ve gotta stop calling you ‘kid’ now?”

“I mean, it’s not very…” Spencer can only gesture vaguely. 

“Not like a ‘here’s looking at you, kid’ thing?”

“You know, I’ve never actually seen Casablanca--”

“Okay, well then we’re _gonna_ watch Casablanca.”

Spencer leans back, head cocking to one side. He can’t exactly ask how long ‘kid’ has been intended as flirtatious on some level, but he likes thinking maybe for a while… 

“Okay.” He smiles. “It’s a date.”

Maybe they’ll go a couple rounds in black and white, he could bring out Le Salaire de la Peur… and then he’ll watch something with sports for Derek and Derek will watch something with spaceships for him, and… 

And they’ll spend nights together.

Which he’ll think about later.

They get back to work-- Garcia calls Hotch late enough into the night that he does make the call to go after Hill first thing in the morning, putting together the team he wants on the raid. It’s later still when they head back to the hotel, Spencer taking work back with him.

“You planning on getting any sleep, pretty boy?” Derek takes the file box from him, carrying it out to the car.

“Yeah, maybe. I wanna try and get through everything we know about this guy first. It’s really not much.”

“Yeah, not at the rate you read. Okay.”

“Besides, I’m not, um… I’m not on the raid. So.”

Derek’s shoulders relax, just a little. “Try and get some rest anyway.”

“Hey, at least you, um… I won’t be keeping you up with it.” He makes a face. 

“Come on.” He nods towards the car, waits for Spencer to get himself situated before passing him the box and closing the door for him. 

The drive is quiet, they’re riding with Elle, no one feels chatty. He doesn’t know if they’d feel any chattier without her there, if he’s honest. His mind is focused on work. Which is good, it took him long enough to get focused, to shift out of his expectations and into unpleasant reality. He assumes it will get easier-- he’s just never had a personal life to bemoan the loss of, before.

Derek takes the file box again, at the hotel, carries it up to Spencer’s room and waits with it as he unlocks the door, before handing it off. 

“Don’t stay up too late, genius.” He flicks Spencer’s forehead, in lieu of something gentler. Hotch and Gideon are at the other end of the corridor now, heading their way, he and Derek can’t exactly kiss goodnight at the door.

“Okay, okay. Hey-- um. Sleep well. And-- just… In case I don’t get the chance to-- in the morning, I mean-- Stay safe.”

Derek’s expression softens, and he nods. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be…” Spencer hefts the box up. “You know. Working.”

He watches Derek head down the hall, holds the door until Hotch and Gideon catch up with them, because he might as well. He doesn’t work too late-- he’ll be able to get back to it in the morning. Just late enough that he thinks he can fall asleep. In the morning, he gets the files gathered back up, for the ride back to the station. Most of the team will get set for the raid there, and he assumes JJ is going to be preparing statements, and probably liaising with someone about getting as much botulinum antitoxin collected as they can, so once they know where they need to get it administered, they’ll be able to get on it.

“Wish me luck.” Derek says, as he drops Spencer and his box of files off at a desk. 

“Good luck.” He replies, and he’d like to be able to kiss him, and instead he punches his shoulder gently. “I’ll try and have something for you guys when you get back. Um-- Morgan? In one piece. Preferably.”

“One piece, got it.” He laughs. “Catch you later, pretty boy.”

“Yeah.” He says, mostly to himself, as he drops into his chair with a smile and starts spreading out his work. “Later.”

He’ll have to think about later later, because he’s still got answers to find, but… at least if he takes a moment to think that later, he and Derek are going to get to be way more naked together, it means he’s not thinking about what could go wrong. He’s got a handle on not dwelling on the idea, but it’s better than being distracted by anxiety. Also, it would be nice to have something he could call Derek in front of the team that isn’t his last name… but he’s never come up with nicknames in return before, so… maybe he could get away with calling him Derek in front of the team, during downtime, but not when they’re on a case and dealing with locals and… and being careful to appear Normal. 

It’s a surprise, when the team returns, to learn they have Hill with them. They’ve got him for questioning, but Spencer doesn’t give up on the task he’s been working at-- if they can’t get answers from Hill fast enough, they have to be ready to move without them. And when the answers Hill gives aren’t the whole story, it’s just as well he kept at it.

He and Derek are at separate locations when they wrap it all up, but there’s no stress over that-- neither of them are in any danger. They brought Hill in still breathing, but they didn’t really take him alive in the end. They catch up during the debrief back at the station, Derek slinging an arm around Spencer’s shoulders briefly, the two of them standing close in a packed room as everything’s wrapped up. 

There’s empty time before their flight, but nothing much they can do with it. They can’t go back to one of the hotel rooms without worrying about either Hotch or Gideon coming in to pack, depending on which room, and so Spencer finds himself sitting out by the hotel pool in the fading afternoon, fully dressed, watching Derek swim.

“You never pack a suit?” Derek asks from the water. 

“Why would I pack a bathing suit? I’m never exactly in town to relax.”

“Because sometimes this happens and we get downtime?”

“Do you know most hotel pools are cleaned once a week? And the rate of cryptosporidium in public pools--”

“Nah-ah, you’re not going to finish that sentence.”

“I’m just saying, while chlorine _can_ combat giardia, cryptosporidium is notoriously chlorine-resistant. Given the large number of people who will use a hotel pool in the course of a week--”

“Baby, I love you, but this time I actually mean it when I say I want you to stop talking.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather _not_ know the risk of water-borne parasites--”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you. Feel free to get your nerd on about anything else, but I would like to have a good time for just a little while before there’s another case landing in our laps.”

Spencer shrugs. “If you get a parasitic infection, I just want you to know, we are _not_ at the stage in our relationship where I will sit on the other side of an open bathroom door letting you complain to me about how bad you feel.”

“Noted.” Derek laughs, and goes back to swimming. 

Now that the case is wrapped up and there’s no reason _not_ to think about sex and Derek and sex with Derek, but also no opportunity in which to _have_ sex with Derek, watching him in the pool is a little bit of an exercise in masochism. He has perfect shoulders and perfect pecs and he actually has _abs_ , and he has the most beautiful back Spencer thinks he’s ever seen, and he’s got those arms, and those legs, and basically there’s no part of him that doesn’t make Spencer want to beg and he’s not even sure exactly what he wants to beg for, beyond being allowed to touch. Like, a lot of things, but the options are too dizzying. 

He kind of wishes Garcia had had to come with them on this one, because at least she could say the things he’s thinking. 

He’s lucky no one _else_ comes out while he’s ogling his boyfriend, because anyone else would probably notice that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

The sun is starting to sink when Derek pulls himself up out of the water. 

“Hey, can I get a towel from the cute cabana boy?” 

“Cabana boy? I think I actually prefer ‘kid’.” Spencer throws one to him. Or, at him, but he catches it anyway. 

“Whatever you want, _kid_. I’ve gotta go put some clothes back on before the team grabs dinner.”

“If you must.” He sighs heavily, stomach twisting a little at the knowing smile Derek gives him. 

“I think the restaurant’s going to have some kind of policy about shirts, shoes, and service.”

“If you had been having dinner at my place like we planned, just saying, I have no such policy.”

Derek laughs, snapping the towel at him, though from a distance at which it makes no contact. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you out front.”

“Sure.”

He heads in after him, to get his luggage, so that they don’t have to come back to the hotel after dinner. 

It’s a late night, the mood is celebratory-- they’re used to having a few more corpses than last-minute rescues, having it be the other way around makes this win easy to enjoy. It’s hard not to keep looking at Derek, with the case wrapped and tensions relaxed, hard not to direct most of what he says Derek’s way. It’s hard not to focus on him with his entire being.

On the jet, he settles down to try and nap where he and Derek can’t see each other, because the temptation to crawl into his lap is overwhelming. It’s not even about how much he’d like to maybe go somewhere and tear each other’s clothes off and go from there, although he does, he can definitely say they’re at that point and he has no hesitation whatsoever and the past few days has turned hypothesis to theory. But it’s about more, it’s about everything. It’s about the comfort of being close, and the sensory experience of being cuddled up, the safety and the growing familiarity… the comfort. How much easier it is to shut his brain off and relax when Derek has an arm around him and how good it feels to be _with_ somebody. Not just a kind-of-friend that you kind of fool around with, but a _partner_ , someone…

Someone who makes the world a little less painful and a little less terrifying. And someone he can do that for, someone who turns to _him_ for comfort, too. He wants to breathe Derek in and hide in his arms, yes, but he also wants to dig into tense muscles and feel them relax. Wants to recite books to him in bed when he’s got his own nightmares to stave off. Wants to trade little touches while the world falls away.

Mostly, he wants to fall asleep in Derek’s arms, or maybe his lap, which is the kind of thing that would tip everyone off. The kind of thing you don’t have to be a profiler to pick up on.

So they settle down in separate sections of the jet to catch their separate power naps on the way home. When they land, Spencer makes a point of checking the time and mentioning he’s missed out on his usual late train home, and then it’s not weird, if Derek offers to drive him.

“Where to, baby?” He asks like he knows the answer, their bags in the back, the car a bubble between them and the world.

“With you, please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Derek reaches over, touches his face, gives him a long, slow look. “You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to get you alone.”

“I’ve been wanting that, too.” He nods.

The drive isn’t long, but it feels it. They keep exchanging looks at every red light, Derek’s hand keeps stealing over to land on his knee, his thigh, and the heat remains even when the touch leaves. 

As soon as they’re through the door, two things happen-- one, Derek is pulling Spencer into his arms, their bags hitting the floor, their lips meeting, and two, Clooney is thundering up to bounce around the both of them, whining for attention.

“Okay, okay…” Derek groans, dropping his head to Spencer’s shoulder a moment, both hands squeezing, roaming. “God, do you know how badly I’ve been wanting to touch you?”

“You-- me?”

“Is everything you wear always this soft?”

“I like soft.” He shrugs. 

Clooney muscles between them, before he can try and segue into discussing other things that he likes, or would like, or how badly he’s also been wanting to touch, and Derek sighs, letting go and crouching down to give Clooney some attention.

“Hey, daddy needs you to be a really good boy. Don’t you pretend you haven’t been getting fed and walked regular while I’ve been gone, either. You went to the park without me and everything. Yes-- yes, I _know_ , you’re my special boy, you _are_ , but you’re killing me here.” He glances back up at Spencer. “Sorry, but he needs some attention. I promise, I _promise_ , I’m taking you back into that bedroom, just the two of us, and I am going to make you feel _incredible_ , but even with twice a day check-ins from a sitter, he gets lonely.”

“That’s okay.” Spencer touches Derek’s cheek, then gives Clooney a scratch between the shoulderblades. “I’m a big boy, I can be patient. Clooney’s a responsibility and you’re a good… dog dad.”

Which is another attractive thing about him, at least most of the time. Enough so that Spencer can handle being cock blocked with some sense of grace and poise. A little.

“Next time I can’t keep my hands off you, we go back to your place _first_ , then come here after.”

“Agreed.” Spencer nods fervently, likes the idea that _they_ would head to Derek’s place after, spend the night in the same bed even when it’s not the same bed they start in.

He watches Derek play tug-of-war with Clooney and thump at his sides and baby talk to him until he’s soaked up enough attention to go to his dog bed without complaint when told. 

“Let me freshen up a little and then we can start over.” Derek wipes one hand on his pants, and saves Spencer from having to ask if he could wash off the dog slobber before that starting over. “Just… make yourself comfortable in the bedroom.”

Spencer kicks his shoes off, sheds his jacket, and heads for the bed, trying to get settled, but the excitement’s back up to a full boil now. Door closed between them and Clooney, the expectation of at least one good night before they have to head somewhere new… no more distractions, no more obligations, just the two of them.

Derek joins him on the bed, leaning in to kiss him, hand stroking up and down his side before gathering up a handful of his sweater. He doesn’t exactly need to hold Spencer tight in order to keep him close, but Spencer likes being grabbed onto, being held tight, pressed close to… Derek eases him onto his back, lying over him, and Spencer wraps his arms around him, holds on as hard as he can in return, and for a while it’s enough, it’s a start, just to lie together, trade kisses, to know this time it’s a prelude and not its own end. And when the kisses heat up, their bodies rocking together, their breaths coming harder, this time there’s no need to pull back and cool it down.

“Tell me what you like…” Derek pants against his throat, starts working on getting his layers peeled off. “Tell me what you’re into, gonna make you feel good…”

“This. Anything. You. I’m so into you…”

“Spencer…”

“Derek… please, I just-- I just need you, I just wanna be with you. Waited long enough...”

“Okay…” He kisses the side of his jaw, returns to his throat. “Okay. Hey… I’m going to take care of everything, I’m gonna take good care of you. Another time we can slow it down, talk about everything we want to try, tonight I’m just going to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Spencer nods, helpless. Taken care of… oh, that sounds nice, that sounds good. Taken care of, he likes that a lot. 

It’s not like he intends to lie back and do nothing just because Derek is taking care of him, but to be taken care of is sweet, heady, the promise drags him into an undertow and leaves him feeling hazy.

He untucks Derek’s shirt, slides his hands up under to feel his back, warm and smooth and comfortingly strong beneath his touch. Somehow, despite the distractions of touch, of kissing wherever they can reach, and the number of layers Spencer is in, they manage to get each other stripped to the waist without incident, and it’s not like the sight is new, but now he gets to _touch_ , now there’s nothing to stop him from running his hands over chest and arms and abs.

“Oh, you like what you see, huh?” Derek grins, sits up over him and lets him touch. 

“ _Yes_ , although I feel incredibly out of shape right now, is that what muscles are supposed to feel like?”

He laughs and bends down again, kisses Spencer warmly. “I like the shape you are.”

“I’m a stick insect, a very pasty stick insect.”

“That’s not true.” Another kiss, another. “... If you were a stick insect, you’d have six legs.”

Well, whether or not that ought to be reassuring, his libido is on board with being teased. There is a definite twitch that’s as much for the teasing as it is for the kissing. 

“Yeah, okay, smart alec. Are you going to make fun of me all night or are you going to take your pants off?”

“Oh, okay, I see where we’re at, you’re _eager_.” He teases, as if he wasn’t just as bad, only that’s doing it for Spencer, too. “Don’t you worry about a thing, baby, all you have to do is enjoy yourself. Keep letting me know what you like as we go and I’ll take care of you.”

He doesn’t take his pants off-- he takes Spencer’s, runs his hands all up and down his thighs before cupping over the now very obvious bulge at the front of his briefs. Which are not sexy, but that doesn’t put Derek off at all, and Spencer loves everything about the way he touches him, the confidence in it and the care, how he balances wanting to be gentle with something new, with knowing that Spencer likes a little firm handling from him. Just how _warm_ his hands are… The time and focus that he gives exploration and foreplay despite his own eagerness. Spencer has never felt there was any mystery around Derek’s _popularity_ , but he’s still getting a whole new appreciation for the kind of lover he is.

“I like those pretty legs…” Derek continues, one hand still roaming from hip to knee even as the other is somewhere Spencer is far more focused on now. “ _Long_ legs… believe me, I’ve been thinking about having those legs wrapped around my waist before, but now I’ve got you, I can’t keep my hands off… How I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow and not be grabbing you all day, I don’t know, because you feel so good…”

“ _You_ feel so good. Like-- you actually have the perfect body. Which-- I mean, it’s not just about how hot that is, visually, although… you are very visually… yeah. It’s a lot of things, obviously, like the associations between strength and virility and what that should look like, but it’s also that you, I mean… like, when you’re, um, I just-- I like feeling safe, with you? And, also, there’s no denying that it requires work, even for those with a natural inclination towards athleticism, to, um… to be in the shape you’re in, like it’s hard work and dedication and, um, physical stamina. So then I’m thinking about your physical stamina and what that means for situations like, well, this one.”

Derek kisses him again, then kisses his way down to the center of Spencer’s chest, before just resting there a moment, hands now gripping his hips-- not rough or bruising, but just firm enough to make him feel secure, to make the world melt away a little bit. 

“Physical stamina, huh?” He rubs his chin against Spencer’s chest, the roughness of the neatly-defined stubble teasing a moan out of him. “Hope I don’t disappoint.”

“Impossible.”

“You… you’re my guy.” He kisses his chest again. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, I am.”

“I know you will.” Spencer cups a hand around the back of Derek’s head, pulls him up for another kiss. “Now take your pants off, I don’t want to be the only one who’s this exposed.”

“I like you exposed.” Derek laughs, but he gets his pants off, too. “I like seeing you blush.”

“That’s just unfair, y-- Okay, wow.” Spencer says, because it’s not like he didn’t imagine he’d really like whatever he found, but… but this is more of Derek’s thighs than he’d been able to ogle at the hotel pool, the thighs that he’s harbored _thoughts_ about every time he’s watched him kick down a door, and if the thighs weren’t enough, the bulge between them is-- at least, insofar as Spencer’s limited experience can inform-- _sizeable_.

It’s a little heartening that Derek’s probably not wearing his sexiest underwear either, that this is spontaneous and he hasn’t under-planned for it, but then, Derek could hardly be anything other than sexy regardless of whether or not he had nice underwear for planned seductions.

“You can touch if you want.”

“I want.” He nods, trails his hands down Derek’s chest first, then up his thighs, feels him up a while in firm strokes before he dares, before he takes his cock through the front of his boxers, feeling out the heat and the firmness through the soft material. “I want very much. Um… may I…?”

“I’m yours.”

Spencer tugs at the waistband of Derek’s boxers, eases them down out of the way. Gives Derek the opportunity to return the favor. Once they’re both naked-- or at least, in Spencer’s case, down to a pair of mismatched socks-- Derek rolls back over to blanket Spencer’s body with his own, to line them up, enjoy a little friction along with another deep kiss.

He gets a hand on Derek’s backside, squeezing the firm muscle there, encouraging a little more thrusting. He’d be entirely content if they didn’t get past dry humping-- is it still called ‘dry humping’ when done to completion? He’s not sure. Outercourse, he enjoys that. It feels good, allows for enjoyable physical closeness, requires less prep than penetrative sex and less finesse than oral, which means he doesn’t have to worry about his performance being sub-par… all around, an ideal way to get to know a new sexual partner-- again, in his limited experience.

When Derek does pull away, it’s to reach for the lotion on the nightstand, and he’s straddling Spencer, keeping just enough weight pressed into him to feel safe and secure-- without that, he almost feels like he could float off the bed, now that the length of Derek’s body isn’t pressing down along his own. It’s something sweet-smelling, a contrast to the building scent of sweat and sex, and Derek gives them each a couple of pumps individually, his hand wrapping around Spencer first and then himself, before he gets them both in one slick grip. 

“Oh wow.” Spencer licks his lips, unable to decide on where to focus, because he could stare at the look Derek is giving him forever, but he also very much wants to drink in the sight of Derek’s hand on their cocks, the agonizingly slow slide, how he twists his hand around the both of them and how it feels to be even more trapped together, to be so aware of the shape of him and the heat of him. “Oh wow.”

“Glad you’re having a good time.”

“This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, physically, in my life, and you are an incredibly beautiful man, and I wanted to do this three days ago but you are worth waiting for and I have difficulty expressing or even really understanding my own, my own emotional experience? But I never want to leave my emotions for you unexpressed just because I’m not equipped for or accustomed to, I guess, soul-baring? I just-- And I just--”

“Hey, hey… Spencer, it’s okay.” Derek’s other hand cups his face, thumb caressing gentle arcs under one eye. “Baby, I know how you love me. I do. I know what you’re like. I might not always speak genius, but I’m fluent in _my_ genius. Just like you know me-- and I know you know me.”

Spencer nods.

“We’re good. You don’t have to worry that you don’t express your feelings… we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know how you felt about me.”

“Thanks. I just-- I know I’m… And I just-- I’m glad you know.”

“I know. You show me.” He smiles, hand sliding down to curve around the side of Spencer’s neck, down to rub at his chest, to rest firm and heavy over his thudding heart. Grounding him. “Sweetheart, I got you.”

“You’ve got me.” Spencer nods again. “Hey, um… oh, wow, that’s--”

“Good?” Derek repeats that particular twist of his hand which had interrupted the previous lazy rhythm, that brushes just so right up at the crown of Spencer’s cockhead.

“ _Really_ nice.” He groans. “So I know you, you wanted to take care of everything, and clearly you’ve got that well in hand. Um, sorry, no pun intend-- _Oh_ , okay, yeah, I like that-- but, like… can I do something with my hands here?

“You can do anything you want with your hands here.” Derek chuckles, his hips rolling against Spencer’s in sure little circles, the two of them sliding against each other now within his grip. “Go on, I like to drive but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a move. What do you want, baby?”

“I don’t know. You driving is good, believe me. I just…” He runs his hand up Derek’s arm, from the hand over his heart up to the meat of his shoulder and down, starting small just to increase the contact, to feel like an active participant even if he hasn’t quite figured out his next move. “I can take care of you, too.”

“Yeah you can.” Derek sighs, then moans, as Spencer’s hand joins his. First, he simply strokes in time, his hand partly over Derek’s, partly trying to cover what ground Derek’s hand doesn’t when wrapped around the both of them. Finally, Spencer settles on cupping his hand over them both as best he can, and when that proves awkward, just over the head of Derek’s cock, providing a sort of end point to fuck into, and that’s the right move based on how Derek reacts. “Shit, yeah, that’s-- just like that’s good, yeah…”

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised-- between the size difference and the angle, of his hand and of their bodies, and with Derek’s focus on Spencer’s pleasure, each stroke leaves a little more of him untouched in comparison. Having Spencer’s hand moving in to pick up the slack would make a difference. 

“Did you know… you are-- and this is just at my very rough, uh, rough estimate-- a little more than an inch and a half bigger than the-- oh, oh-- the statewide reported average penis size for the-- the state of Illinois? Wait, maybe two inches.”

“No.” Derek pauses, and Spencer whines. “How do you know that?”

“I know the statewide reported average penis size for every state.” He blinks. “Can we-- more, please?”

“Okay, _why_ do you know that?” He resumes stroking.

“I looked it up. I wanted-- _oh_ \-- I wanted to know if I was normal.”

“You look good to me.”

“Somewhat above Nevada’s factual statewide average, in line with the fact that I’m-- _Derek_!-- also taller than average. So I feel okay about it.”

“You should. You should feel good about yourself.” He nods, and his hand speeds up as he bends low to kiss Spencer again, and Spencer goes from caressing his shoulder to wrapping an arm around him to keep him there. 

It doesn’t take Spencer long, after that. The pleasure washing over him starts to intensify, and being kissed breathless helps push him right past the edge. Derek keeps going, wrings everything out of him before he pulls back, before he lets Spencer slip out of his hold so he can focus on catching up, so Spencer can help bring him there, too. 

It dawns on him, through the fog he seems to exist in now, that the reason Derek isn’t kissing him might be mostly so that Spencer can catch his breath, but it’s also so that he can sit back up and _look_ at him. That Derek’s eyes are tracing over him, from his hair plastered down with sweat to the flush spreading from his face all the way down his chest, to the mess he’s shot over his stomach, his slowly-softening cock… 

Spencer is not his own idea of a pretty picture. He can only imagine he looks damp and slightly tacky, blotchy, scrawny, messy, ungainly… but he’s being presented with the evidence that Derek very much feels differently. The way Derek looks at him, snatches of praise he makes out, hissed under his breath… and then, a palmful of Derek’s release. 

“Hang on.” Derek pants, shifting to un-straddle him, Spencer misses the warmth and the weight of him keenly. He walks to the bathroom, leaves the door open as he wets a washcloth at the sink and grabs a hand towel. From the bed, Spencer can still see him, watch him give himself a quick once-over to clean up before he brings another damp cloth and the same towel back to bed. 

Spencer holds out his hand, and Derek reaches towards him with the washcloth, but instead of handing it over, he wipes his palm, between his fingers, cleans up the mess for him. Spencer’s stomach twists, but it’s something pleasurable, different from the usual nervous clenching he’s familiar with. This is what Derek means, by wanting to take care of him. Not just getting off, but like… in a _real_ way. First his hand and then the rest of him.

Derek turns off the bedroom light and tosses the towel and washcloths in the hamper, before returning to take the side of the bed by the sliding glass door, to help shift the covers out from under Spencer so that he can tuck them both in. He doesn’t bother turning off the bathroom light, though it’s not dimmed and the door stands wider open than it had before, and Spencer’s grateful, he hadn’t thought to worry that without Clooney in the room with them, he might not have the bathroom light, faint as it had been, but now that he does, he finds it easy to fall asleep.

When Spencer wakes, it’s to Derek spooned up behind him and nuzzling at his shoulder. 

“Oh… morning.” He sighs, finding Derek’s hand and lacing their fingers.

“Hey, baby…” Derek kisses his shoulder, gives him a squeeze before he pulls away. “Lemme grab you some breakfast.”

“Okay.” He rolls onto his back, a little surprised-- he can count the number of breakfasts he remembers being made for him on his fingers. Granted, he knows there was an early childhood full of them, but he doesn’t _remember_ that. He watches Derek move around the room, watches him pull on a tee shirt, a pair of shorts, before he leaves the bedroom, and Spencer takes advantage of the moment of privacy, makes use of the bathroom. 

He means to grab his pajama pants from his go bag, but he must have dropped said bag in the living room, because it’s not in the bedroom, so he settles on finding his briefs and getting back under the covers. 

When Derek returns, it’s with a glass of juice and toast with peanut butter, and he hands both over along with a kiss to Spencer’s cheek. 

“Sorry I’m not much of a chef. Coffee’s brewing. Won’t take too long. Left a mug out, sugar’s by the machine, milk’s in the fridge, so you can grab the first shower and then make yourself a cup, I’ve gotta take Clooney out on his morning jog. You need to swing by your place before work?”

“Probably should. I think the team will notice if I re-wear something I wore on our last case… Drop me off and I’ll take the train in to work.”

“You sure? I don’t mind waiting around.”

“Yeah.” Spencer frowns. He’d rather just ride in with Derek… but there’s only so many times he thinks they could get away with that without someone noticing, if they start driving in together in the morning all the time. One thing to accept frequent rides home, especially if they leave the office late, but coming in together in the morning is different… “I’ve got to repack my bag, anyway.”

“Okay.” He pushes the hair back from Spencer’s face, with an understanding smile, a nod. “Hey… pretty boy. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You know, any time you--” He starts, only for a scratching and a whining from the other side of the bedroom door to interrupt. “Guess that’s my cue. There’s a clean towel hanging up by the shower for you and we’ll try and keep it quick.”

“Sure-- Derek? Thanks. I mean-- for last night, but mostly… just… taking care of me. It’s really nice.”

“Any time.” Derek beams, before leaving to take Clooney out.

Spencer manages to wake up a little with a quick shower, but it’s the promise of coffee that really gets him moving. He’s just started drinking his cup when Derek and Clooney come back in, and as soon as his leash is unclipped, Clooney rushes over to sniff at Spencer and then to lay his head on Spencer’s knee.

“Morning, Clooney.”

Clooney whines through a yawn, stub tail wagging. Derek comes over and kisses Spencer’s cheek, giving Clooney a pat as he does.

“I’m gonna hit the shower and then I’ll drive you home.” He promises. 

Clooney is good company, as Derek showers and Spencer finishes his coffee-- showering in Derek’s empty place hadn’t been weird, because showering is a solo activity, but emerging from the shower to a silent house had been a little weird. Waiting around with Derek in the shower might have, similarly, felt odd. He’s used to Derek’s couch and getting used to his bedroom, but he’s not yet to the point of feeling at home there on his own. But waiting around with Clooney… that feels kind of homey. Clooney’s tail goes a mile a minute as Spencer scratches around his ears, and Clooney walks close at his side when he goes to rinse out his mug and place it in the empty dishwasher, even escorts him over to retrieve his waiting bag when Derek does get out of the shower.

Dressed to kill, which is totally unfair, but unfair in a way Spencer is happy to enjoy.

“You ready to go?”

“Yup. You, um… you look good.”

“You think?” He grins, runs a hand over his head. 

“Yeah.”

Derek’s hand moves to the small of his back, for the walk out to the car, spring in his step as they go.

“I’ll see you at the office.” He says, as they pull up outside Spencer’s building. 

“Yeah. Yeah-- I’ll see you. I mean, I always see you. I like seeing you.”

“Go on, beautiful.” Derek chuckles, but he grabs Spencer’s hand before he can go, presses a quick kiss to his palm before releasing him. “Thanks for last night.”

“Oh-- no, thank _you_. I mean-- the feeling is very mutual.” Spencer nearly tries to step out of the car without unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“I’ll see you.” He laughs, waving, and Spencer waves back.

He trips over his feet, but at least he doesn’t go down.

When he does get to the office, Derek is quick to leave his desk, to ruffle Spencer’s hair and greet him like he hadn’t just seen him.

“Hey, pretty boy, late night?”

“You know how late my night was. I mean, you drove me home.” He pushes at Derek’s arm, only to be reeled in close under it.

They spend the rest of the day ‘bothering’ each other-- throwing little balled up empty sugar packets at each other after getting coffee, kicking lightly at each other’s feet in passing. It may not be cuddling, but it still fills him with a giddy lightness. 

And if they both stay late to work on reports they’ve fallen behind on, well… no one has to know it’s an excuse to leave together.


End file.
